


Interrupted

by MandalaRose



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Fingering, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Blow Jobs, Domestic Fluff, Domestic destiel, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Gay Castiel (Supernatural), Hand Jobs, Kid Fic, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, Teacher Castiel (Supernatural), Teacher Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 12:09:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18521236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MandalaRose/pseuds/MandalaRose
Summary: “Cas, babe, I’m ready,” Dean pants, “please..” but the rest of his plea is cut off by a sudden wail from the baby monitor.  Jack.“Goddammit!”  Dean lets out a noise that is definitely not a whimper as Cas stills his hand.“It would be wrong to dose them all with Benadryl, right?”“Dean.”“Just checking.”Dean loves his and Cas' three children with his whole heart, but he desperately needs some alone time with his husband.ORThe world's most relatable fanfic ever. (If you've ever had small children, that is.)





	Interrupted

 

Opening the door with one hand, Dean loosens his tie with the other and dodges to the side as 43 pounds of blonde hair and sass push past him to tumble into the kitchen, unicorn backpack swinging behind her.

“Whoa, where’s the fire, Blondie?”  he asks his daughter, who freezes in the process of kicking off her pink glittery sneakers, looking decidedly guilty. 

“There’s-a-new-Ryan-video-on-YouTube-and-I-just-want-to-watch-it-REALLY-fast-okay?” she says in a rush, as if Dean will somehow be dazzled enough by the speed of her question to miss the actual content.

“Not so fast, Shorty.  You know the rules, Claire.  First homework, then dinner, then bath, _then_ you can watch _one_ YouTube video before bed.”

“Awww, but I NEVER get to watch YouTube when I want to.”  Dean bites back the smile trying to overtake his features at Claire’s petulant tone and pouty lip.  She gets that from her Uncle Sammy.

“Tough cookies, Claire-Bear.  There are _lots_ of things Daddy wants to do that I don’t always get to.  That’s just part of life.”  He lifts the six-year-old onto a counter stool and passes over her backpack, “Homework.”

As Claire spreads her homework out on the kitchen countertop, Dean begins chopping vegetables for tonight’s dinner.  He’s just finished frying up the ground beef and onions when he hears keys in the kitchen door.

Moving the frying pan off the heat first, Dean jogs over to open the door for Cas, who immediately hands off their squirming toddler.  Emma reaches for Dean, soft brown curls brushing against his cheek as she gives him a wet kiss hello. 

Dean cringes as their two-year-old squeals in his ear, “Daddy!”

“Hi, Pumpkin,” he greets, before turning to say hello to his husband, who’s currently standing next to their kitchen table, stripping off his satchel and the backpack they use as their daycare diaper bag.

“Heya, Sweetheart,” Dean says before leaning forward to kiss Cas hello over eight-month-old Jack’s head, where he’s tucked securely against his papa’s chest in their favorite ring sling.

“Hello Dean,” Cas says before pulling Dean into a second kiss, “Dinner smells good.”

“Taco Tuesday,” Dean grins and Cas mirrors the expression.  Dean’s pretty sure he and his husband both love the Lego Movie far more than either of their daughters do.

Dean sets Emma down with a pat to her diapered bottom and walks back around the kitchen island to begin pulling down plates and glasses from the cabinets.  Cas straps Jack into his high chair and dumps a small pile of shredded cheese on his tray to occupy the baby while they finish prepping dinner for the rest of the family.

A moment later, Dean smiles as he feels strong arms wrap around his waist from behind. 

“Thanks for picking up Claire from school today,” Cas says with a kiss to Dean’s neck.

“Thanks for doing daycare pick-up,” Dean counters, turning in his husband’s arms to capture his lips in a lingering kiss.

“Thanks for cooking dinner,” Cas says between kisses.

“Thanks for cleaning up after,” Dean returns and Cas chuckles.

“Deal.”

They spend another minute kissing before the room erupts into a sudden cacophony:  Jack’s pterodactyl screeches fill the air as he loudly lets the world know he’s run out of cheese, Claire whines from her perch on the other side of the counter, “I’m hungry.  I want to eat noooooow,” and Emma adds her own contribution to the din, chanting “Eat, eat, eat!”

Sighing, Dean smiles ruefully as he rests his forehead against Cas’ shoulder.  Cas gives his waist a final squeeze and drops a kiss to his temple before murmuring darkly in Dean’s ear, “Later.”

Dean perks up at that, raising an eyebrow at his husband, who shoots a significant look and matching smirk his way before picking up the stack of plates and making his way to the table.

There’s a definite bounce in Dean’s step as he scoops up the taco condiments and follows Cas, eyes dropping to the man’s well-defined ass in his navy dress slacks.

Dinner passes in a flurry of pterodactyl screeches and rushed conversations about their days.  Though they’d met teaching at the same high school 9 years ago, they’ve both moved on to different schools since then and although Dean misses riding to work with his husband, the change has been good for both of them.  Dean listens to Cas commending a group of his AP English students’ clever use of Three Dog Night’s “One,” as the soundtrack to their video project on _100 Years of Solitude_ as he picks the onions out of the taco meat while making Claire’s burrito (“I only want hamburger in my burrito, Daddy.  Onions are _soooo_ gross _!”_ ).  Cas nods attentively as Dean relays how one of his Chemistry students managed to explode a dish full of lye during their soap-making lab while dutifully scooping black beans, tomatoes, and sour cream onto Emma’s plate (“More, Pa, more!”) and Jack’s tray (“ _Screech!”)._

By the time dinner, baths, and bedtime (following a family viewing of the latest, “Ryan’s Toy Review” on YouTube, and _Christ_ , Dean hates that kid) are done, Dean’s exhausted and practically fantasizing about his memory foam mattress.  His fantasies take a distinctly different turn however, when he drags himself into their master bedroom and sees his shirtless husband laid out on their bed, toned arms folded behind his head and sharp hipbones peeking out enticingly above the waistband of his forest green lounge pants. 

“Well, hello there,” he says in his most sultry voice, crawling on top of his husband, who reaches for him eagerly, pulling Dean into a heated kiss.  Dean straddles Cas’ hips, groaning as the other man sucks Dean’s lower lip between his teeth, nipping at it a final time before breaking the kiss to pull Dean’s t-shirt over his head.  Running his hands down Cas’ lean torso, Dean sits up and rocks backward, causing Cas to moan as Dean’s ass presses against his clothed erection. 

Leaning back down, he licks into Cas’ mouth before latching onto his husband’s collarbone and sucking a mark into his tanned skin. 

“Dean,” Cas moans.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean breathes between kisses, “Missed you.”

Letting out something very closely resembling a growl, Cas shifts his weight suddenly and flips Dean onto his back, quickly switching their positions so he’s the one straddling Dean’s hips.  Dean’s dick leaps at the rough treatment as Cas kisses the ever-loving life out of him.

“Missed you too, Dean.  So much, Sweetheart.”

Cas kisses his way down Dean’s torso before stripping him out of his pajama pants.  He’s reaching into the nightstand drawer for their lube when the sound of Emma’s crying filters through the baby monitor sitting on top of the nightstand. 

“ _Fuck!”_ Dean swears quietly and Cas kisses him softly.

“I’ll get her,” he says, “it’ll only take a minute.”

He levels a dark and promising look at Dean before adding, “Stay _exactly_ as you are.”

Dean swallows drily and answers, “Yes, sir.”

Cas backs out of their room, eyes not leaving Dean’s until the last possible moment.

Dean relaxes against the pillows as he listens to Cas croon softly to their toddler, “She’s got a smile that it seems to me, reminds me of childhood memories..”

Less than 10 minutes later, Cas is standing in their bedroom doorway, eyes dark and glinting as he takes in the sight of Dean, naked and on display.

Dean’s cock perks up under his husband’s hot scrutiny and Cas, the smug bastard, smirks.  He divests himself of his own pajama pants before walking toward the bed, giving his long cock a couple of languid strokes as goes.  Dean’s mouth waters at the sight and his breath quickens as Cas opens the nightstand drawer, pulling out their long-neglected bottle of Astroglide. 

Dean feels a strange urge to greet the purple bottle like a long-lost friend and shakes his head.  All thoughts of anthropomorphizing personal lubricants flee Dean’s mind, however, as his husband crawls over top of him, slotting his knee between Dean’s thighs and pushing his legs apart.

Dean complies with the unspoken request easily, bending his knees and spreading his legs to give Cas access as he hears the soft _snick_ of the Astroglide cap.  A moment later, Dean feels a cool, lubed finger teasing at his entrance and he hums in appreciation.

Cas lies on his side next to Dean, kissing his shoulder as he breeches Dean’s entrance and begins moving his slicked-up finger in and out of his husband. 

“So good, Dean.  So good for me, Sweetheart.”

“Cas,” Dean sighs, pulling his husband into a kiss as he adds a second finger. 

Before long, Dean’s keening and rocking himself down against three of Cas’ talented fingers, which graze his prostate on every other thrust.

“Cas, babe, I’m ready,” Dean pants, “please..” but the rest of his plea is cut off by a sudden wail from the baby monitor.  Jack.

“Goddammit!”  Dean lets out a noise that is definitely _not_ a whimper as Cas stills his hand and slowly withdraws his fingers.

“It would be wrong to dose them all with Benadryl, right?”

“Dean.”

“Just checking.”

Sighing, Dean gets to his feet, reaching for his pajama bottoms, “I’ll go.  You just stay here and be ready to fuck me into the mattress when I get back.”

“Jack’s cutting his second incisor,” Cas reminds him as Dean pulls up his soft flannel pants, “he probably won’t go back down as easily as Emma did.  Maybe we should just..”

“Don’t fucking say it, Cas,” Dean says sharply, pointing a finger at his husband and putting on his most serious frown, “Three weeks, man.  Three.  Fucking.  Weeks.”

 Cas sighs and looks down helplessly at his already flagging erection.  His husband’s cock looks every bit as disappointed as Dean feels and he’s never experienced this degree of empathy for anything in his entire goddamn life.  His very helpful brain quickly runs through about half a dozen different ways to comfort the little guy, but Jack wails again from his crib so Dean settles for leaning over his husband and giving him a brief, but fierce kiss.

“It’s like in Peter Pan, Cas.  You know, how they have to hold on to a happy thought to fly?  Just keep thinking sexy thoughts about how good it’s gonna feel to sink that long, hard cock into my tight little ass and Little Cas there’ll be ready for lift-off in no time.”

Cas groans and his dick does indeed give an interested twitch.  Grinning, Dean turns and saunters out of the room, pausing in the doorway to give his ass a shimmy.  Cas’ heated chuckle follows him into the hallway.

Unfortunately, Cas’ prediction about Jack is spot on and Dean goes through two bottles, a diaper change, and his acapella renderings of half of his favorite Zepp tracks (and who knew you could sing, “Immigrant Song,” as a lullaby?), before Jack finally falls asleep.  After gently lowering the snoring infant into his crib, Dean tip-toes out of the nursery and back down the hall to the master.

Slipping into their bedroom, Dean carefully closes the door and turns toward their king-size bed, where he finds Cas curled up on his side, sound asleep, the baby monitor receiver clutched in one hand.  Apparently, Dean’s Zeppelin serenade was even more effective than he realized. 

With a soft smile, Dean pulls the comforter up over his husband’s sleeping form and turns out the light.

~***~

Rinsing his razor clean and running a hand down his freshly-shaved jawline, Dean mentally reviews today’s lab plans for his Chem students.  Fridays are always lab days.  Dean knows better than to think he can hold the attention of 70 hormone-driven teenagers with lectures and seatwork when the evening’s home football game beckons with its under-supervised bleachers and dark corners.

Setting his razor back on its shelf in the medicine cabinet, Dean closes the mirrored door.. and nearly jumps out of his goddamn skin when he glances at the mirror and sees his boxer-clad husband standing behind him where the empty doorway should be.

“Fuck, Cas!” Dean yelps, gripping the edge of the vanity in both hands and fighting to calm his pounding heart.  “Don’t do that!”

His asshole husband just chuckles quietly and pushes the door closed behind him before turning the lock and stepping into Dean’s personal space, reaching around Dean to run his hands across his still-bare chest and abs. 

“I’m sorry,” Cas rumbles in his ear before sucking a brief kiss into the sensitive skin between Dean’s neck and shoulder, “How can I ever make it up to you?”

“Mmmm,” Dean hums, tipping his head back against Cas’ shoulder, “I think I have a few ideas.”

As Cas’ hand trails downward and slips into Dean’s red boxer briefs, he groans appreciatively, “Oh, that’s definitely a good start.”

“Hmm,” Cas agrees as he idly begins stroking Dean’s very interested cock.  Dean is immensely relieved that he decided against taking the extra time to jerk-off in the shower this morning.  With the toll their hectic lives as parents-of-three has been taking on their love life recently, Dean’s solo shower acts have definitely increased, but over the past few weeks they’ve barely taken the edge off.  Dean’s never been this sexually frustrated in his life and he’s pretty sure he hasn’t had blue balls this bad since he was a horny teenage virgin, lusting after Cassie Robinson and Victor Henriksen in turns.

Cas wraps one strong arm around Dean’s upper body and pulls him flush against his chest as he pumps Dean’s cock, eyes roving over Dean’s body in the mirror.

“Look at you, Love.  So beautiful.  You’re so perfect, Dean.”

Dean’s getting so goddamn close and hearing those words on his husband’s lips nearly does him in, in more ways than one.  As much as he wants to come right now (and he REALLY wants to come right now), he NEEDS to get his hands on his husband; needs Cas to come with him.  Reaching down to still Cas’ hand, Dean spins in his husband’s arms, then spins them again as he wraps his arms around Cas, sliding his hands down to cup the man’s ass and lifting him onto the countertop.

Dean captures his husband’s lips in a frantic kiss as he frees Cas’ erection from his black cotton boxers, wrapping a hand around his husband’s cock and working quickly to bring him as close to the edge as Dean is.  Most days, Dean bitches about how low their vanity countertop is, but today he’s grateful for it.  The angle may still be a little awkward, but Cas is low enough to still be able to get a hand on Dean’s cock, stroking in rhythm with Dean.  Both men chase one another toward the finish line, eager to stumble over it together.  Dean feels his orgasm building low in his belly, his kisses faltering as he pants into Cas’ mouth, just a little bit more..

_BANG!_

_BANG!_

_BANG!_

Dean leaps backward like he’s been burned and Cas rears back as well, slamming his head into the mirror behind him.

“Goddammit,” he swears in a whisper, as Claire’s muffled voice carries through the door.

“Daddy, why is the door locked?”

“Just a minute, Sweetheart,” Dean calls breathlessly, gulping air as he once again waits for his racing heart to calm, “What do you need?”

“Papa said to get dressed, but I can’t find my purple shirt with the triceratops and it’s my favorite!”

Cas moves to get off of the vanity, but Dean plants his hands on the man’s thighs, pinning him in place.

“ _Just a minute,”_ he mouths to his husband.

“Why don’t you go back to your bedroom and Daddy will be there in a minute to help you look for it?” he calls through the door to Claire.

“But I need it nooow and Emma and Jack are both awake and if I don’t get dressed before them, then Emma will get to choose what to watch on tv and I’ll have to watch _baby shows,”_ Claire wails indignantly, clearly aghast at the mortification that is being forced to watch The Octonauts when one is a mature and sophisticated six-years-old. 

As if waiting for their big sister’s cue, Jack starts crying in his crib and Emma can be heard calling out from her toddler bed, “Pa!  Paaaa!”

Cas gently, but firmly removes Dean’s hands from his thighs before hopping down from his vanity-perch and Dean’s dick might cry.

“ _Sorry,”_ Cas mouths as he straightens his boxer shorts.

Dean pouts as he plants a sad kiss on his husband’s cheek before stepping out into their bedroom and following his daughter to brave the wilds of a six-year-old’s dresser in search of the majestic, but elusive triceratops t-shirt.

~***~

Dean jerks upward, nearly braining himself on the dryer he’d been reaching into, when he feels the sudden press of his husband’s denim-clad erection against his ass. 

“Jesus!  I swear-to-fucking-God I’m going to get you a bell one of these days,” he mutters as he turns to face Cas, who immediately backs him up against the washing machine and attaches his lips to Dean’s neck. 

He groans as Cas wraps strong fingers around Dean’s waist and pulls their hips flush against one another.  Dean feels the line of Cas’ hard cock through his jeans and his blood rushes south, his own cock filling in answer to the siren-call of its mate.  Cas’ lips move down Dean’s throat and he tips his head backward to give his husband a broader canvas.

“You’re like a goddamn sex-ninja,” he says breathlessly, feeling the vibrations of Cas’ answering chuckle against his collarbone as he lets go of Dean’s hips to begin unbuttoning his jeans instead.  Groaning again, this time in frustration, Dean reaches to intercept his husband’s hands where they’re currently slipping beneath his waistband to cup Dean’s ass.

“Babe, not that I’m not enjoying this, because _fuck_ am I enjoying this, but Sam and Eileen are gonna be here in,” as Dean releases Cas’ wrist to look at his watch, Cas takes the opportunity to slide his hand into Dean’s boxers and give one cheek a hard squeeze as he presses his cock against Dean’s.

“Thirty minutes,” Cas interrupts, pausing to capture Dean’s lips in a desperate kiss, licking into Dean’s mouth like he’s forgotten what his husband tastes like.

“The kids,” Dean manages to mumble around Cas’ clever tongue.

“Are fine,” Cas answers with a nip to Dean’s lower lip that makes him whine.  “Jack and Emma are both down for their naps and Claire just started a new episode of PJ Masks.  We have at least 20 uninterrupted minutes.  That’s plenty of time for me to make my husband come.”

Well, who the fuck is Dean to argue with flawless logic like that?

Fisting both hands in the faded AC/DC shirt that once-upon-a-time was Dean’s, but has lived in Cas’ drawer for at least the past 2 years, Dean pulls his husband to him, crashing their mouths together and kissing Cas breathless.  The other man finally pulls away, panting, lips slick and shiny as he shoves Dean’s jeans and boxers down to mid-thigh.  Cerulean eyes hold Dean’s as Cas drops to his knees, palms skimming down Dean’s sides and resting on his hips, Cas’ long fingers wrapping around the curves of Dean’s ass.

“Fuck,” Dean breathes as he grips the edge of the washing machine behind him before his knees can buckle.  He swallows as Cas places chaste kisses against his hipbones.

“There’s no way we’re gonna have time for me to reciprocate,” he warns and Cas looks up at him through dark eyelashes.

“Guess you’ll just have to owe me one,” Cas answers with a wink, hot breath ghosting across Dean’s eager erection.  Fuck if that isn’t hot.  Dean groans and looks away from the impossibly sexy sight of his husband on his knees at Dean’s feet, licking kiss-swollen lips as he leans toward Dean’s weeping cock.  Eyes glued to the ceiling, Dean tries desperately to think of anything but his debauched sex-god of a husband.  It’s been long enough that he’s embarrassingly close to the edge already.  The sight of those pink lips wrapped around his cock might be just enough to push him over.

Cas presses Dean’s ass back against the cool front of the washing machine at the same moment he takes him into his mouth and Dean lets out an audible gasp at the dual sensations of cold metal and hot, wet heat.  It shouldn’t be possible to smirk with a mouth full of dick, but Dean swears can _feel_ Cas’ lips quirking, the smug bastard.  Cas begins to bob his head, swallowing Dean’s cock almost to the hilt before pulling back in a long, wet slide.  Dean moans as Cas pulls almost all the way off before sucking hard and swirling his tongue around the head.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmers, “I’m so close already.  Goddamn your _mouth._ ”

Cas hums in approval and Dean feels a familiar warmth coiling in his belly.

“Oh yeah.  Fuck, Cas.  Just like that.  So good, baby.  So good.”  Dean reaches down and fists a hand in his husband’s dark curls, eliciting a moan from Cas that vibrates up Dean’s shaft.

“Dean!”  Dean hears the front door slam downstairs as the sounds of his Sasquatch brother and family invade the previously silent foyer.

“Fuck!  Sam and Eileen are early,” Dean gasps.  “Goddammit!  They have two kids!  How the fuck are they _early?_ ”  Heaving an irritated sigh, he tugs at Cas’ hair to pull his husband to his feet.

Cas however, holds his position and looks up at Dean with a wicked glint in his eye.  Instead of releasing Dean, he tightens his hold on Dean’s hips and presses his forearms against Dean’s thighs, pinning him against the washing machine as he redoubles his efforts to suck Dean’s goddamn brain out through his dick. 

Biting back an involuntary moan, Dean pulls harder on Cas’ hair. 

“Cas,” he pants, “what the fuck are you doing?”

Despite his protests, Dean feels the heat building behind his navel again and he’s so fucking close to letting go when his goddamn, cock-blocking little brother’s voice hits him like a bucket of cold water.

“Dean!  Where are you guys?”

“Goddammit, Cas,” Dean hisses, “I am not fucking coming while my goddamn _brother_ is calling my name!”

Finally, Cas pulls off, only to collapse on the floor, laughing uncontrollably while Dean struggles to pull his pants back up.

“Asshole,” Dean grumbles and Cas lets out an undignified snort, wiping tears from his eyes as Dean rebuttons his jeans.  He breaks into giggles all over again when Dean grimaces and readjusts his still half-hard cock.

“Dean!  Cas!  Seriously guys, what the hell?” Sam’s voice is getting closer as he tromps up the stairs.

“I’m coming, Sammy!  Keep your goddamn pants on!”

Cas cackles and Dean stomps out the doorway, leaving his husband curled up on the laundry room floor.

~***~

“I can’t believe you forgot the milk again!”  Cas grumbles from his position kneeling next to the bathtub while Jack and Emma splash happily in the warm water.

“I didn’t hear you,” Dean says in frustration from the bathroom doorway, _again._

Another week has gone by, making it more than a month since they’ve had sex.. a new (and incredibly fucking depressing) record for them.  At this point, Dean’s pretty sure their elderly and extremely crotchety neighbor Frank and his “special lady friend,” Mildred, are having more sex than they are.  If Dean had harbored any questions about the elderly couple’s libidos (he hadn’t), they would have been definitively answered by the glint in Mildred’s eye the times Dean had caught her staring hungrily at his husband’s ass from Frank’s porch swing (not to mention he’s pretty sure she’d gotten a hand on his own derriere when she passed him in the frozen foods aisle of the grocery store a couple weeks back).  Frank even confronted Cas about it once, telling Dean’s solid-Kinsey-six husband to keep his “wandering eyes” to himself.  The look of horror on Cas’ face was priceless.  Dean cackled about that for _days._  

Geriatric gropings aside, there has been a serious dearth of sex in the Winchester-Novak household recently and the strain is starting to show.  They’ve both been growing increasingly irritable and short tempered with each passing day.

“I told you _three_ times Dean.  Three.  It’s not that you didn’t hear me.  It’s that you didn’t _listen._ ”  Cas hastily wipes down both kids with a soapy washcloth, not bothering to look up at Dean as he talks.

Shit, that’s right.  They’re arguing. 

 “I do _listen_.  I just don’t always _remember._ It’s different,” Dean protests, “besides, I _did_ get milk.”

Now Cas does turn to look at Dean, shooting him an absolutely Sam-worthy bitchface, “You got _skim_ milk, Dean.  The girls need whole milk.  You know that.  You need to pay attention to food labels.  What if one of the kids had a food allergy?”

“But they _don’t_ have a food allergy,” Dean cries out in exasperation as Cas pulls a freshly rinsed Jack out of the tub and passes him over wrapped in a fluffy gray towel.  “If they did, I’d pay attention to the damn labels.”

“Why don’t you just pay attention _now_ , so we don’t have to have this same argument again every week!” Cas laments, voice getting louder with each word as he stands to face Dean, holding a towel-wrapped Emma on his hip.

Dean opens his mouth to respond, but his rebuttal is cut short when Claire pops into the bathroom and squeezes between her fathers, where they stand glaring at one another in front of the bathroom mirror.

“Stop yelling at each other!” their six-year-old wails.

“We’re not yelling!” they answer in unison, before Cas turns away to collect himself and Dean takes a deep breath.

“We’re not yelling,” Dean says in a softer voice as he reaches down with one hand to run his fingers through Claire’s fine blonde strands, “Papa and I are just having a discussion.  A loud discussion.”

“You were yelling at Papa.  I heard you and that’s not very nice.  You should say you’re sorry,” Claire chides with all the righteous indignation her six-year-old voice can convey (which is surprisingly a lot). 

Looking over at Cas, Dean narrows his eyes at his husband’s cocky smirk.  Smug, self-righteous bastard.

“Yes, Dean,” says Cas seriously, although Dean can see his lips quirking, “you should apologize.”

With a sigh, Dean looks down at his daughter’s expectant face, “You’re right, Sweetheart.”  Glaring at his husband, he continues through gritted teeth, “I’m sorry, Cas.”

“I forgive you,” Cas deadpans.  Dean flips him off behind Claire’s back when his pint-sized daughter buries her face in his middle for a hug.  Cas’ eyes glitter.

“Good job, Daddy,” Claire intones seriously, “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Pumpkin,” Dean says warmly, giving Claire a squeeze and marveling for a moment at how grown-up his oldest baby is these days before Claire pulls back and waves a warning finger between him and her papa, “And no more fighting you two!”

With that, she bounces out of the bathroom and the two men are left holding two squirming babies and staring at one another.

Dean stares at his husband.

Cas stares back.

Dean bites back a smile.

Cas’ lips twitch.

Jack squeals and suddenly both men dissolve into giggles, earlier tension chased away by the sound of their laughter.

Dean steps into the hall to let Cas pass by on his way to Emma’s room.  As Cas moves by, Dean stops him with a hand on his waist and pulls him into a soft kiss.  Cas sighs against Dean’s lips and rests their foreheads together until chubby, two-year-old hands grip his face demandingly and Emma fidgets restlessly in his arms, “Pa!”

“Okay, Bug,” Cas murmurs into Emma’s hair, casting Dean a tired smile before he turns away and walks down the hall to wrestle their toddler into her pajamas.

An hour later, Dean leaves Jack sleeping soundly in his crib and finds his husband stretched out on the couch, watching House Hunters reruns. 

“Hey,” he says leaning over the back of the sofa to rub his husband’s shoulders, “I’m sorry about the milk.”

Tipping his head back to meet Dean’s eyes, Cas smiles, “It’s okay.  I’m sorry for making such a big deal about it.  It’s just been a very exhausting couple of weeks.”

“Mmm,” Dean agrees, leaning further over the couch to meet his husband’s lips as Cas pulls him down for a kiss. 

They do the upside-down-Spiderman kiss for a while, which is a little messy, a little complicated, and a lot awesome, especially when Dean can feel Cas’ chin stubble scraping against his upper lip.  It gets even more awesome when Cas tightens his grip on Dean’s shirt and hauls him over the back of the sofa and down into his lap. 

Feeling his ever-eager dick perk up at the manhandling, Dean licks into Cas’ mouth, their kisses turning from sensual and languid to hot and dirty.  Dean manages to turn and straddle his husband’s thigh, using his new angle to loom over top of Cas and plunge his tongue deep into the other man’s mouth.  He groans as Cas bends his knee to press his leg into Dean’s growing erection. 

“What’s this?” Cas asks coyly, thigh rubbing against Dean’s half-hard cock.

“Oh, you don’t remember either?”  Dean jokes forlornly, “Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure it’s just there for decoration.”

He feels Cas huff a hot laugh against his neck and grins.  No matter what else happens, how tired they are, or how hard life gets, Dean knows they’ll be okay as long as he can still make Cas laugh.

“Hmm,” Cas answers with a smirk, “I bet I can find a use for it.” 

“You’re a big talker, Novak.  Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

At that, Cas surges up, toppling Dean onto his back on the opposite end of the sofa.  He stares down at Dean for just a moment, dark hair wild and sapphire eyes ravenous, before running his hands up Dean’s torso and over his biceps, pushing his arms above his head as he goes, until he’s pinning Dean’s wrists against the sofa cushions.  

“I am a man of my word,” Cas rumbles, stretching his lean, athletic body along Dean’s and making both men groan as their erections brush up against one another through their flannel sleep pants.  Still holding Dean’s wrists above Dean’s head, Cas sucks marks into the skin of his throat as he ruts against Dean.  The friction is maddening:  it pushes Dean closer and closer to the edge, without ever being enough to tip him over.  Dean’s panting, nearly sobbing, as he babbles a litany of “Cas, fuck, more, please” over-and-over again.

Dean’s not sure if they’ve been like that, rutting together on the couch, for minutes or hours when he hears a tearful voice call from the living room doorway, “Daddy?  Papa?”

Cas immediately stills, growling a barely audible, “Fuck,” into Dean’s neck before answering, voice rough and strained, “Yes, Claire? What’s wrong, Sweetheart?”

Dean’s never been so glad that their sofa faces _away_ from the rest of the downstairs.

“I had a bad dream,” Claire sniffles, “Can I sleep in your bed?”

Dean bites back a whimper.  _Goddammit!_ It seems like every time they even _try_ to have sex now, they end up further away from the actual goal.  No one even got naked this time for Christ’s sake!  It’s like some depressing, sexed-up (or _not,_ as the case may be) law of diminishing returns.

“Of course you can, Sweetheart,” he says as he and Cas sit up and look at their tiny daughter, her favorite teddy bear dangling from one hand; the neckline of her slightly-too-big Elsa nightgown hanging off of one shoulder; standing in a patch of moonlight that highlights her small frame and makes her look even younger than her six years. 

“It won’t be forever, my love,” Cas murmurs in Dean’s ear before standing and walking around the couch to Claire.

“Come here, Bee,” he says soothingly as he scoops their baby girl into his arms and heads for the stairs. 

“It won’t be forever,” Dean repeats as he follows his heart to their bedroom.  After all, he groans internally, someday they’ll all grow up and move out.

~***~

“What are you thinking about?” Cas asks as he steps into Dean’s space from behind and wraps his arms around his husband’s middle. Dean looks down at Cas’ hands.  They look a little more worn and weathered than they did when he met his husband nearly 28 years ago, but they’re every bit as strong and comforting now as they were then.  He places his own hand on top of one of Cas’ and gives it a squeeze.

“Just thinking about when the kids were little,” he answers Cas.

“Still all worked up over Jack starting school, aren’t you?” Cas teases gently, placing a kiss on the back of Dean’s neck.  Jack is currently finishing up his first week at college and even though his school’s only 45 minutes away, it’s still not the same as having him home.  So yeah, Dean’s a little sad that his last baby has flown the nest, sue him.

“You know, it’s hard watching them grow up and go off on their own, but those early days were pretty hard too, weren’t they?” he asks.

“Mmm,” Cas agrees with a chuckle, “that they were.”

Grinning, Dean turns to face his husband, “Remember that dry spell we had when Jack was just a baby and we were still trying to figure out how to raise 3 kids and function as a married couple at the same time?  Every damn time we tried to have sex, we’d get interrupted.  I still swear the little ingrates were conspiring.”

“Oh yes,” Cas says with an answering grin, “I think it was almost three months before we finally broke the spell.”

“Two months and 26 days, not that I was counting.” 

Cas’ grin turns feral as he backs Dean toward their bed, “Well, that’s one benefit of _finally_ having an empty nest.  No interruptions.”

“A-fucking-men to that,” Dean agrees, before capturing his husband’s hot mouth in a needy kiss.

Cas shoves Dean backward onto the bed, crawling after him as Dean uses his arms to push himself further up the mattress.  Cas rucks Dean’s t-shirt up and sucks kisses down the length of his torso, kissing his way across Dean’s softened midsection. 

He’s reaching for Dean’s belt when they hear the screen door slam downstairs, followed by Jack’s voice, “Dad?  Pop?  Surprise!  I decided to come home for the weekend.  Where are you guys?”

 

“OH, GODDAMMIT!” 

 

~***~

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and I hope you liked it!
> 
> Bonus points if you can guess which scene from, "100 Years of Solitude," they set "One" as the soundtrack for. Also, that was a real video project, but it was not mine. It was a group of my AP English classmates and it still makes me giggle almost 20 years later. 
> 
> I was, however, the dunce who exploded lye in her face during Chemistry. 
> 
> If you'd like to reblog this fic, the Tumblr post is here: <https://a-mandala-rose.tumblr.com/post/184294707744/interrupted>
> 
> If you'd like to come show my lonely Tumblr some love, you can find me here: <https://www.tumblr.com/blog/a-mandala-rose>


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